I'll Be Your Downfall
by Red Gutterflower
Summary: A reluctant vampire slayer joins the Fellowship of the Ring in the quest to destroy the One Ring. But her addition to the group could be the greatest thing that ever happened...or their cross to bear. (Longer explanation inside)
1. Prologue

_In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer._  
  
It's a story I know all too well. The one girl in all the world, with immense power, strength, and abilities that measure beyond all the men in the world. The Chosen One. Me.  
  
Unfortunately, being the 'Chosen One' doesn't mean that I get to choose anything. I was chosen. My father was an elf, the key elf used for spreading the seed of the slayers, mated with my mother, a thus creating me. I never met either one of them. The moment I was born, I was handed over to a watcher, Lauxely, for training and preparation, in case I was to be called.  
  
I was barely three hundred when the slayer of my time passed. I was called, and Lauxely was thrilled. He immediately began preparing me for what I was born to do: standing alone against the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness.  
  
These creatures of darkness have roamed Middle Earth since its origin. They feast on the blood of the living, torment those brave enough to venture out of their homes when the sun goes down, and disrupt the lives of all the living, good or evil. These are the vampires, the undead. Representatives of hell itself.  
  
But as long as there have been vampires, there have been Slayers. One at a time, usually. The girl who's job it is to kill the bad boys. And, on occasion, save the world.  
  
I died trying to save the world. But in every death, there is life. Life that can be born again. And in every life, there is a story.  
  
This is my story. 


	2. A New Mission

**Chapter One: A New Mission**

  
  
_I stared at the man in front of me as he gently stroked my cheek, whispering something soothing in Elvish. He was beautiful, his blue eyes like the sea before a storm. He stepped back from me, his eyes apologetic.  
  
"Do not worry, melamin," he said, as he drew his sword. "This will only hurt for a minute."  
  
Then he plunged it deep into my stomach..._  
  


  
  
"Silly. Silly, wake up. Celaena!"   
  
"Uhhhh...." I groaned, more asleep than awake and not wanting to be woken. I had been sleeping on my back again, and when my eyes finally allowed themselves to open, I was staring face-to-face with my too-close-for-comfort nursemaid, Morwenna. In my left hand I tightly clutched a stake during my sleep, and raised it to her, as threateningly as I could in my half-sleep.  
  
"Don't point that stake at me, little girl. Silly, I'm telling you, you must wake immediately. Lauxely want to see you. You're being called into duty."  
  
With my other hand, I reached up to my face and wiped the remaining night crust out of my eyes. I squinted at my nursemaid until they came into focus. "I'm always on duty." I groaned again, and sat up. "Tell me. When am I not?"  
  
Morwenna sighed. "Special mission. All peoples throughout Middle Earth are being called in. Elves, dwarves, wizards--"  
  
"Lucky me." I set my stake on my nightside table. "All peoples of Middle Earth? Does that include banished female warriors and her grumpy old watcher?"  
  
Morwenna rolled her eyes. "I don't know anything about it, you silly goose. Now get up and go that meeting! I'm curious to hear what this new mission is. Hurry up, Silly! I want to hear all about it when you get back."   
  
"Yes, uh, thank you, Morwenna." The old woman hurried out of the room. I shook my head, and sat fully up, and slapped myself once or twice. The second time, I hit too hard, and stung my own cheek. I groaned. Waking up was a bad idea. Worse because I didn't know my own strength at times.  
  
I swung my legs around and stood up off the tiny cot. My blanket, which had been tightly clutched in my arms moments ago, had left them now, and I shivered. For my entire life, this cold, deserted castle had been my home. Once a hideout for nobles and royals, it has long since been abandoned, and embraced by the slayer circle. We hated it. My watcher, Lauxely especially.  
  
Sighing, I stood up and began to dress, getting ready for my meeting.  
  


  
  
"New mission..."  
  
Got that part.  
  
"Ring of power..."  
  
Heard of those...  
  
"Sauron..."  
  
Big nasty fellow.  
  
"Little hobbits, you know...halflings..."  
  
Shirelings?  
  
I was still in a daze. I had never completely woken up, my dream still plauging me, and now my loving yet irritating and older-than-dirt watcher, Lauxely, was vainly attempting to brief me on my new mission.  
  
"Saruman turned evil..."  
  
That's news.  
  
"Big meeting in Rivendell..."  
  
I suppose that's where I'm headed.  
  
"Lots of important representatives of Middle Earth..."  
  
Am I included in that?  
  
"Steward of Gondor..."  
  
Denethor? Not a pleasant man.  
  
"Prince of Mirkwood..."  
  
Spawn of Thranduil? Haven't met him yet.  
  
"A ranger...Strider, he is called...You know of whom it is I speak, Silly..."  
  
That last name caught my attention. "Strider?" I asked, shivering slightly.   
  
"Yes." Lauxely looked at me knowingly. "The bearer of many names, the most well-known of them being--"  
  
"Aragorn. Son of Arathorn." I sighed. "Heir to the throne of Gondor."  
  
He eyed me. "You realize that the line has not been broken, then."  
  
"Of course not."  
  
Lauxely's eyes suddenly glazed over with anger. "It was the first Steward of Gondor, Mardil, after the line was supposedly broken...who cast the slayers out of the White City in the first place. Out of their home."  
  
I groaned. "I know, I know. Stewards always disapproved of the slayers, and Mardil felt that they were drawing in the vampires."  
  
"Do you believe this, Celaena?"  
  
"It's all in the books. It was one hundred eighty years before I was born." This was getting boring. "Why did you even bother to bring up? It was years and years and years ago. What kind of warrior would want to settle? I prefer a ranger's life myself."  
  
"I am no warrior," he told me. "You are the only warrior here, Celaena, apart from the potentials. My advisors and I are somewhat different. We are pompous, arrogant bastards who would like to be a little warm in the winter, or a enjoy nice, hot meal every once in a while, or a fireplace to read by..."  
  
"I get it," I said, laughing. "But what does any of this have to do with Aragorn?"  
  
"Well," said Locksley, "if he were to be reinstated as king...he could restore our home in Gondor. Before Mardil, the kings were always very gracious to have the slayers and watchers residing in their halls. If you could only convince him to return to Gondor..."  
  
I narrowed my eyes. "We tried this once before. A hundred years ago or more. I refuse to put myself in that position again."  
  
There was evident disappointment in my watcher's eyes, and it made me sigh. "I don't want to hurt you...please, don't be unhappy, but...It is very unlikely that Aragorn will return and take his place as king. Besides, Denethor is the most unpleasant man I've ever met, and he will not give up the throne so quickly."  
  
"So there's no way you could convince him?"  
  
"I wouldn't even dare try," I responded. I sighed. "So tell me about this mission. And I'd appreciate the nutshell version."  
  
"Sauron's ring of power was found," said Lauxely. "It was in the possession of a Shireling. Sauron has now risen, and is after this ring. Four of the Shirelings and the ranger Strider are journeying to the Rivendell for a special meeting. The ring must be destroyed, and it will be decided then who is to destroy it."  
  
Something about this story rang a tiny, familiar little bell inside my head. "I've heard of this ring," I mused. "Pretty gold thing, powerful, hidden writing? Unholy. Holy creatures, the right hand of the Valar--or, well, me--cannot touch it. Right?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Well, then, what is my purpose? To destroy it would mean to touch it. I cannot touch it." I paused to think. "And what of my other duties? Vampire slaying and all that."  
  
"All of this is still extremely vague," said Lauxely. "We don't know much about it...Only that you need to head for Rivendell at dawn."  
  
"Dawn?!" I said, surprised. What in Valar...I dashed to the window, and threw back the drapes--surprised to find that it was still dark outside. "What time is it now?"  
  
"A few hours before sunrise," said Lauxley. "I thought you would like time to pack."  
  
I rolled her eyes. "Sure. You give me four bloody hours to pack my things, but not even one extra for a nap. Thanks, Lauxely."  
  
"It's what I'm here for," he replied cheerily.  
  



	3. The East West Road

**Short Author's Note:** hey to everyone who's actually reading this. as far as the story's going, I'm really not sure yet whether or not to make this a romance. I've been itching to do a Legolas romance ever since Orlando Bloom floored me with his sexiness, but who knows, maybe an Aragorn/OC fic would be better. Depending on reviews... Tell me what ya think!  
  


**Chapter Two: Chance Encounter**

  
  
I left at dawn. Since our home is located at the end of the Weather Hills, on the opposite end of Weathertop, I had three days on horseback before I even reached the end of the mountain range. The journey to the East-West Road itself was uneventful, but I still had two days before I reached Rivendell. Lauxely had warned me not to travel at night, but there was still no telling what I could run into.  
  
I reached the Last Bridge at nightfall on the second day. Unfortunately, there was no place to stop and rest for the night, so I continued on. Not more than an hour later, the terror began.  
  
My horse, Amrûn, was walking at a slow, steady pace when he suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. "Amrûn," I said, nudging him in the sides with my feet. "Amrûn."  
  
He didn't move. Instead, he knelt forward onto the ground. Since I didn't ride saddleback, there was nothing to keep me on, and I slid over his head and fell to the ground. "Oof!" I exclaimed. I stood up, slightly put out. "Amrûn, that wasn't..."  
  
I trailed off. Amrûn hadn't moved from his place on the ground. He bent his head farther and put his ear to the road--then stood up as suddenly as he'd stopped before. He gave a small whinny, stomped his hooves into the ground a few times, then began nudging me in another direction, as if to say, "Get off the road."  
  
"What in Valar..." I didn't understand his behavior, but sometimes, a horse's instincts are better to trust than your own. I took him by the reins and led him off the road. Amrûn knelt down in the ditch until he was fully sitting down. Black as the night itself, he blended in perfectly. I stood there with my hands on my hips, until Amrûn snorted and whined. I sighed, and knelt down next to him. This was ridiculous.  
  
To my surprise, not more than five minutes later, the sound of multiple hoofbeats could be heard. I estimated that whoever was out riding this late was no more than a mile away. I hunched down lower, leaning into Amrûn, but turning around to crawl up further in the ditch in order to see what was going on.  
  
A moment later, a brilliant white horse thundered over the bridge. Its riders were a tall, beautiful elvish woman and a small, childlike boy. The boy was hunched over, his cloak pulled up around his head. He looked ill.  
  
I watched the elf and the boy as they galloped down the road. Just as they left my sight, Amrun neighed quietly, and I turned...to see nine of the blackest horses and their dark riders running as fast as they could after the white horse. I gasped, and blinked, hoping my eyes were decieving me. These men were the Nazgul!  
  
Amrun whinnied nervously, and I stroked his mane, trying to comfort him. After the nine riders passed, I counted to fifteen, and stood up. Amrûn stood as well, and we both stepped back. "Maybe we should continue off the road for a little while," I whispered. He nuzzled his face into my neck, as if to agree.   
  
We climbed out of the ditch, and began walking alongside the East-West Road. We had traveled about two miles when I heard a twig snap from inside the woods that lined either side of the road. Both Amrûn and I halted, and I drew my sword. I reached into the bag that was attached to the horse's reins, and fumbled until I found a stake. I stood quietly for a moment, and heard that same noise again. "Who's there?" I called out. All was quiet, and I crept silently to the edge of the wood. I held the sword out at arm's length. "Who is there?" I replied. I saw movement from behind a tree, and readied my stake. "Show yourself or recieve a sharp and painful death!"  
  
There was a rustle of movement, and from behind one of the trees emerged...a child? In the dark it was hard to see. His hair was curly, and he was not more than three and a half feet tall. Still, his presence in a dark wood this late at night was curious. "Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound menacing. "Tell me!"  
  
"P-P-Peregrin Took, my lady," he said. "Of-Of-Of the Sh-Sh-Shire."  
  
My eyes widened, and I put away my sword. "You're one of the shirelings! Hobbits, I suppose. Where are your travel companions?"  
  
"I-I-I don't kn-know," he stammered. The poor thing was shaking! I immediately felt sorry for frightening him.  
  
I put my stake away and walked over to the frightened hobbit. I knelt down. "I apologize for scaring you," I told him. "My name is Silly, and I'm on my way to Rivendell. I know about you and who you're traveling with. No doubt they're looking for you right now. Would you like me to help you find them?"  
  
To scared to speak, the little hobbit could only nod. I smiled, stood, and offered my hand. He took it hesitantly, and I gave a low whistle for Amrûn. He trotted over. "Master Took, this is my horse Amrûn. He won't hurt you. He's too stupid."  
  
Amrûn gave an indignant whinny, and I laughed. Peregrin smiled a little, and Amrun knelt down and nuzzled him a little. Amrûn was a very affectionate horse, and took to the little hobbit very quickly. He stood up straight again, and I picked up Peregrin by the waist and lifted him onto his back. "Now, Peregrin...where did you last see your friends?"  
  
"Um...in the woods," he replied, no longer stuttering. "The elf lady came to help Frodo, and then she rode away, and we walked for awhile but then Strider went to find food, and he told us to stay put, and I...didn't."  
  
I was confused with how little sense he made, but despite it, I smiled. He was such a little thing, and even though I knew he wasn't a child, he still seemed like it to me. "With the Nazgul near, Strider will know better than to cry out for you. How were you traveling? By foot or horse?"  
  
"Well, we were on foot, but we had a pony that was carrying our things. His name is Bill."  
  
Amrûn immediately put his nose in the air and began sniffing. Peregrin looked nervous. "Don't worry, Peregrin," I told him, vainly attempting to reassure him. "Amrûn knows now that you are traveling with his kin. If he can smell him, then he can lead us to your friends." Amrûn nodded his entire head in one direction. "Looks like he's picked up a scent." The horse began walking, and I followed alongside.  
  
He seemed to relax a little, and said, "You, uh...You don't have to keep calling me Peregrin. Everyone just calls me Pippin."   
  
"Alright, then, Pippin," I said, smiling. "Silly is just a nickname for me as well. My full name is Celaena the Red, but Silly is just so much more easier for people...Like Pippin is for your friends, I imagine."  
  
"Yes," he said, sounding slightly more cheerful. "And my cousin Meriadoc just goes by Merry. And our friend, Samwise--we just call him Sam." Pippin looked over at me quizzically. "How did you know about us? And Strider, and the Nazgul, and that we were going to Rivendell?"  
  
"Oh! Well, there's this meeting I'm going to in Rivendell about something that one of you hobbits has in his possession," I explained. "As for the Nazgul, I saw them on the road about an hour ago. Amrûn and I hid. There were ten riders in all."  
  
Pippin looked alarmed. "Was one of them an elf lady on a white horse?"  
  
"Well, yes..."  
  
"Then you must have seen Frodo!" he exclaimed. "Frodo was hurt, and Arwen had to take him--"  
  
Slightly confused, I came to the conclusion that it must have been Frodo and Arwen that were being chased. But what was an elf princess doing out alone in such a forboding forest...in the middle of the night? Especially when there were horrid creatures like the Nine roaming around, as well as vampires and orcs and Valar knows what. "Slow down for a second," I told him, placing my hand on his. "Now, tell me, exactly what happened."  
  
Pippin sighed. "We were camping out a few nights ago at Weather Top, and the Nazgul, or Ringwraiths, or whatever they're called, attacked us, and stabbed Frodo. We carried him as far as we could, but he was slipping, and then the elf showed up. She said that she'd take him to her father, and they rode off."  
  
I frowned. His friend Frodo had obviously been stabbed by a weapon of Minas Morgul, and Arwen... "Are you sure that this elf said her name was Arwen?"  
  
"She didn't say, Strider said," he replied.   
  
I stood in thought for a moment, wondering how much Pippin knew...wondering what he should know. "Arwen is Elrond's daughter. He's lord of Rivendell, and an excellent healer. I'm sure your friend Frodo is in good hands. Arwen is also a very fast rider, so she should make it to Rivendell faster than us. Once she gets over the river, they'll be safe, I'm sure."  
  
Pippin was quiet. "Have you met Arwen? She's beautiful."  
  
"Most elves are," I replied. "And I've met Arwen, but I have not seen her in a long time. Fifty years or more, it's been." As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I had come to like Pippin too easily, and trust him as well. Now he'd have questions, and I would have to answer them.  
  
"Fifty!" he said, surprised. "How old are you? And what are you? You don't look like an elf, but you don't look like anyone else I know who's over fifty."  
  
"Well," I began. There really wasn't an easy way to say it. "You're right. I'm not quite elf, but I'm not quite human either. I'm actually more kin to you than I would be to your friend Strider."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"PIPPIN!" we suddenly heard. "PIPPIN!"  
  
Pippin grinned. "That's Strider!" He forgot our conversation, to my relief, and Amrûn began to trot in the direction the shout came from. I ran alongside, not having any trouble keeping up.   
  
We finally saw some figures ahead of us--one man, two more of Pippin's kind, and a small pony. From atop Amrûn, he waved. "Hey, Merry! Sam! I'm over here!"  
  
The three turned to see us, and began running over. I turned, uncomfortable with the situation and not wanting to face Strider. I had never met him before, but some of the grief I had with Arathorn was still with me.  
  
I reached up, held Pippin by the waist, and gently lifted him off Amrûn's back. I stood back while he ran up to meet his friends. Instead of some heartfelt welcome like I expected, the taller hobbit smacked him on the head. "Pippin! How could you run off like that? Strider told us to stay put!"  
  
"I'm...sorry?"  
  
In an instant, I felt pity for him. He hadn't meant to leave his group, I'm sure.  
  
"You could have been lost for good!"  
  
"Yes, but I wasn't," Pippin argued. He gestured towards me. "Silly found me, and she took care of me...Well, first she tried to kill me, but then she talked to me, and she saw Frodo and Arwen and the Ringwraiths, and that she met Arwen fifty years ago and that Elrond was going to take good care of Frodo. Her real name is Celaena the Red and she's going to Rivendell, too...Right, Silly?" He breathed deeply, and the chubbier hobbit smacked him on the back a few times.  
  
I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. Never trust a hobbit. Never.  
  
I heard someone stepping closer to me, and looked up to see Strider standing over me. The first thing I noticed was that he had his father's eyes. The second thing I noticed was the smell. He certainly smelled like a ranger.  
  
I nervously introduced myself. "I'm Silly," I said, trying to hide the shaking in my voice. "I didn't mean to frighten Pippin, but...one so small should not be traveling in the woods alone in the middle of the night."  
  
Strider looked me up and down, obviously making note of my height. "No, one should not."  
  
I narrowed my eyes, slightly annoyed. "I am more than you think I am."  
  
He leaned closer, threateningly. "What is your business in Rivendell?"   
  
"A council," I retorted, put off. "Elrond requests my attendance."  
  
Strider lifted his eyebrow, amused. "Why would Elrond request the presence of a child in his council, who calls herself 'Silly'?"  
  
I frowned. He was trying to push my buttons in order to identify me. "I am a friend."  
  
"Then why is it I have never heard of you?"  
  
"Because I did not say I was yours," I retorted. "Now, I have returned your friend to you, and I must be on my way. I still have a day's ride to Rivendell, and I don't need a nosy ranger and three little ones to slow me down."  
  
I turned, and began walking away. I mounted Amrûn's back, preparing to ride away, when I heard Strider call, "Hold on, just a minute."  
  
I rolled my eyes, and turned back to him. "Can I help you?"  
  
"My lady, I did not mean to offend you in any way," he began. "These woods are dangerous and I do not think that venturing out into them by yourself is a good idea."  
  
I sighed. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."  
  
"I know that..._slayer._" The last word he whispered so the hobbits couldn't hear.  
  
Surprised, I leaned back a little. How did he know? What had given away my identity? Or had he known all along? "How...?"  
  
"Because no unarmed, innocent girl is dumb enough to go wandering through the woods in the middle of the night," Strider said. "And you've been clutching that stake since you first arrived here."  
  
I looked down at my hand and blushed. Thankfully it was dark, and he couldn't see the redness on my cheeks. I had been holding it, quite tightly I might add, and hadn't even noticed. "Well, you get used to it after four hundred years or so."  
  
"Well, forgive my previous accusations of you being weak," he said, bowing a little. I could see that glittering serpent ring on his finger that I hadn't seen for nearly a hundred years. His voice broke my thoughts. "I understand you prefer travelling alone, but Master Took has seemingly grown fond of you, and I do believe that your addition to our little...band of travellers would be more positive than anything else."  
  
This was a bad idea. Even though we were headed in the same direction, if I were to go with him, that could possibly delay me another day. And there was no telling what was lurking around in these woods...But then again, if they came upon a vampire, they would not be prepared to fight it.  
  
"Alright," I finally agreed. I slid off Amrûn, who neighed impatiently. I looked at the three hobbits, of them, Pippin grinning like a child, and to their pony. "Help me get two of the hobbits on Amrun, and unload some of the things from your pony. Mine can share the load. Then get the third one on yours. You and I can travel on foot. I refuse to lose any time."  
  
Strider looked amused. "Yes, my lady."  
  
I helped to hoist Pippin and the one called Merry on Amrûn. He didn't seem pleased with the idea of being used as a workhorse, and nipped me on the shoulder more than once. The hobbit Sam rode on back of Bill, and Strider and I walked in between.  
  
The hobbits chattered amongst themselves as we walked on, and Strider and I spoke in low voices.  
  
"What do you know?" he asked quietly.   
  
"I know only what my watcher has told me," I replied. "The One Ring was located in the Shire, in the possession of one of your hobbit friends. You were all on your way to Rivendell when you were camping out on Weathertop and attacked by the Nazgul. Your friend Frodo was stabbed, by a Morgul blade I can only guess. He grew ill, Elrond's daughter came to help, and took Frodo with her."  
  
"Those are most of the details," Strider replied. "Except...I don't think that Pippin mentioned to you that Frodo is the one with the Ring."  
  
I shut my eyes. Valar... "I saw them on the road about two miles before I found Pippin. They were being pursued by the Nine."   
  
"Arwen is a good rider," he said. It seemed, though, that he was reassuring himself more than he was me. "She must have made it over the river in time."  
  
"Hmm." I was temporarily lost in thought, and we walked in silence for a little while longer.  
  
After walking for nearly five miles without saying anything, Strider broke the silence. "I have always wanted to meet you."   
  
I looked up, surprised. "What did you just say?"  
  
"Well...I had always wanted to meet you. I grew up in the House of Elrond, and he told me dozens of stories about slayers, and what they were like. He said...he said you knew my father, Arathorn."  
  
He certainly wasn't subtle. "If you're trying to give me some sort of surprise," I told him, rolling my eyes, "it's not going to work. I knew who you were before I ever laid eyes on you. You're the son of the king, heir to the throne of Gondor. Holder of my fate."   
  
"How..."  
  
Again, this is why I avoid contact with most people outside of the slayer circle. Explanations are always involved. "Yes, I knew your father. He was a good man. His death was tragic. Unfortunately, the one thing I needed from him more than anything, I could never have."  
  
Strider's gaze went soft. "What was that, my lady?"  
  
I swallowed. Swallowed my tears, swallowed my pride. "A home."  
  
He gazed off to the side, understandingly. "Gondor."  
  
"Yes," I said softly. "My watcher, Lauxely, wanted it more than anything in the world...to return home. He's older than dirt, understand. Older than the White City itself. But he loved it there. And I love my watcher as though he were my own father." I inhaled, remembering. "I spent four years trying to convince him to take the throne of Gondor. But he wouldn't have it. He was unbelievably loyal to the Dunedain. So I gave up." I shrugged. "A few years later, he met your mother. I met her once. Lovely woman, not-so-lovely father. I was sorry to hear about her death."  
  
Talking about Arathorn felt strange; I hadn't been able to do so in so long. What was even stranger than talking about him, though, was talking about him with his son. He had soaked up everything I had said, and I left him with his thoughts, not knowing what else to say. He'd suffered loss, and so had I.  
  
"How did he die?" Strider asked suddenly.  
  
I blew out a breath, repeating the lie that everyone had probably told him his entire life. It broke my heart that he couldn't know, but I didn't want to have to be the one to tell him. "Orcs," I replied, sullenly. "He was off riding with Elrond's sons, and they were attacked. One shot him in the eye, and he died later that day."  
  
"That's what the records said," he hissed. "But I want to know the truth. No orc could have killed him."  
  
"How would you know? You were only two."  
  
"I know it's not the truth!"  
  
I turned my head and avoided his gaze. "I'll tell you someday."  
  
And that was that. We didn't speak to each other for the rest of the night.   
  



	4. The Last Homely House

**The Last Homely House**

  
  
I rubbed my eyes and looked to the west. It was late in the afternoon, the sun was beginning to set, and my group of weary travellers and I were just about to come upon the city of Rivendell.   
  
The hobbit Sam saw it first, even though it was still a mile or two away. "It is even more beautiful than Bilbo described," he said in awe. "I can't believe it...the Last Homely House."  
  
"Mmmhmm," I murmured in agreement.   
  
I was exhausted. When we'd finally stopped for rest, I had volunteered to stay up and watch over the others. And when it had come time to eat, I didn't. Slayers could go days without food, I had explained to the hobbits. I offered them my share to split and eat among themselves. Strider had protested, but I was strong. I could last.  
  
But now, I regretted it. My stomach rumbled loudly, and I pressed my hands against it as I trudged along on foot. Every now and then, Strider shot me a wary glance. My eyes were growing heavier, my head growing lighter. I hadn't eaten, hadn't slept in more than three days. Finally, I could stand it no longer. My legs gave, and I dropped to the ground.  
  
Strider turned around. "Silly!" he exclaimed, kneeling beside me. Amrûn stopped and turned as well, neighing loudly, as if he were worried. Strider helped me sit up. "You're weak."  
  
"I'm not, I'm fine," I protested, trying to stand. It was useless. I felt dizzy and fell to the ground again.   
  
Strider sighed. "Merry, I need you to get up off the horse. Don't give me that look, It's only a few more miles, and she needs it more than you do. Come on, Silly."  
  
Despite my arguing, Strider held me under the arms and helped me to stand. After Merry climbed down from Amrûn, I was lifted up onto his back. I cricled my arms around Pippin's waist, and he patted my hand reassuringly.  
  
"It's my turn to protect you, my lady," he said, trying to cheer me up. It worked a little. I gave a small smile, and rested my chin on the top of his head. I was in a daze for the rest of the journey. About a mile away from the city, Strider urged the horses into a cantar, while he picked up Merry and ran alongside. When we finally reached the gate, it was dusk and I was close to unconscious. I dozed off as we rode under the archway, but was woken by someone's gentle hands lifting me off the horse.  
  
"Careful...she's exhausted," I heard Strider caution. "She hasn't eaten or slept in Valar knows how long."  
  
"It's alright, I know this one," I heard a familiar voice say. "As long as she can make it to her room, she'll be fine."  
  
I opened my eyes and rolled my head over to see the speaker. I smiled when I saw that it was Elrond's son. "Elladen."  
  
"Er..." He chuckled a little. "Actually, I'm Elrohir. And you are one sleepy slayer. I'll help you upstairs. Then in the morning, you can take a bath, eat something..."  
  
"The council..."  
  
"--Is not for a few more days," Elrohir replied. He put my arm around my shoulders and helped me to stand. "The Steward of Gondor has yet to show his face, so my father has postponed it."  
  
"Mmph."   
  
I don't really recall anything else Elrohir said to me that day. I barely remember him leading me up the steps of the Last Homely House and into the room that I had stayed in whenever I was in Rivendell. I do, however, remember him gently laying me down in the softest bed I'd ever slept in. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

.........

I woke up late the next morning...well, I assume it was late, as the sun was already high in the sky. My eyes fluttered open, the sunlight piercing my lids. I sat up with a groan, and looked around the room. Next to the bed was a tray of food and a sheet of paper. I scooted over in the bed and picked up the paper. It was a letter from Elrond, written in Elvish.  
  
_Silly,  
  
I hope you enjoy your breakfast (I picked everything out myself out of the kitchen because I know what you like--you can thank me later). Eat ALL of it. I'm serious, you gave everyone quite a scare yesterday. A bath has been drawn for you when you are ready, and a dress has been laid out for you to wear. Then I want you to come and find me. There is something we need to discuss before the council.  
  
Elrond_  
  
I rolled my eyes. With Elrond, there was always something to discuss.   
  
But, I thought, as I ate my food, he is very hospitable. Elrond had always welcomed slayers into his land, his city. In general, elves are wary of us, and for him to be so open makes him sort of an odd duck in Middle Earth. But I loved him. Next to Lauxely, he's like another father to me.  
  
I finished all the food, just like he had instructed, and dropped the fork on the plate with a clank. I got up off the bed and wandered over to the washroom, stripping and leaving my dirty clothes on the floor as I went. I found the tub, and slowly climbed into it. The water was perfectly lukewarm, the way I liked it.  
  
In Rivendell, baths like these are quite public. They're not even really tub-size, more like the size of a small pond. They're made for holding several elves at one time, but whenever I come here, Elrond closes this one off for just me, and the other elves respect my privacy. I really don't understand the appeal of wanting to sit in a bath naked with other people around me who are naked, but I suppose it's some Elf-socializing-culture thing that I don't understand.  
  
After dunking myself underwater and scrubbing all of the dirt and grime off myself and my hair, I leaned back in the tub and let my head rest against the side. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scents of the flowers that seem to follow me everywhere in Rivendell. Birds chirped outside my window, a light breeze blew my hair across my face...and the light sound of footsteps as they made their way towards my washroom.  
  
My eyes flew open, and I sat up just as the intruder walked in. I gasped, and quickly covered my chest with my arms, sinking deeper into the water. He gasped as well, and turned around.  
  
"I apologize, my lady," he said, his back turned. "I didn't realize that this was a private bath."  
  
"It's--It's not, actually," I stammered. "I just did not expect anyone in here this time of day. Er...Sorry. I just...overreacted." Inside, I glowered, angry that Elrond would allow someone to invade my solitude. I couldn't just turn him away, though.  
  
He slowly turned back around, and I got a good look at him. He was an elf, but obviously not a Rivendell elf...at least, not one of Elrond's dark-haired kin. His hair was light, his eyes blue, and his build...well, built. Very built. And somewhat familiar. The elf gave a small smile. "You don't mind me staying, then?"  
  
"No, that's...alright. You can stay." Internally, I smacked myself, not wanting to be nude in the presense of someone else who's...also nude.  
  
I turned my head as he removed the towel that was around his waist and dropped it on the floor. He stepped into the water, and I did not look back at him until he was fully in the tub. He smiled again, and I gave a small smile back.   
  
We sat in silence for awhile. The elf had a perplexed, slightly angered look on his face for the longest time, staring out the window. I leaned back again and shut my eyes, arms still crossed over my chest, trying to make do with the solitude that I had. Suddenly, his voice broke into my thoughts. "Are you from Rohan?"  
  
I had been looking out the window, and snapped my head back to face him when he said it. "Hmm? Oh, uh, no. I'm not from, well, anywhere, really. I live at the northern part of the Weather Hills. Opposite Amon Sûl."  
  
"I haven't been in that part of Middle Earth in many years," he replied. "I'm from Mirkwood. I'm...oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Legolas. What did you say your name was?"  
  
"Uh...I didn't," I replied. "But...People just call me Silly. I'm Silly."  
  
He smiled. "It's a pleasure. Now, if you don't mind me asking...Why are you in Rivendell?"  
  
"Uh. Elrond. He has this...council, meeting...thing. Requested my attendance."  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow. "The same reason brought me here. My father was supposed to be here, but was unable to come. I came in his stead. Who are you representing?"  
  
I stared at him, and it finally dawned on me. This was Thranduil's son, the prince of Mirkwood. His father was the leader of the Woodland Realm.  
  
"Ah...My lady?" His voice interrupted. "Who are you representing?"  
  
"Heh. Um...Just a group of rogue rangers," I lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie. And Legolas's interrogations were beginning to make me nervous. I grabbed my towel from the side of the bath and stood up, covering the front of myself. "Excuse me, my lord, but I have a meeting to go to." I stepped slowly out of the bath, covering myself as I did.  
  
Legolas stood as well, but only so the water level reached his waist. "May I escort you to dinner tonight, then?"  
  
I turned, tucking the corner of my towel in. "I was planning on escorting myself."  
  
"Yes, but then I would be in a position where it would be difficult for me to learn anymore about you."  
  
I shrugged. "There's nothing left to know."  
  
He lifted an amused eyebrow. "You have still not given me an answer."  
  
I had either painted myself into a corner, or didn't have the heart to say no. "Alright."  
  
Saying nothing more, I turned and retreated to my room. 


	5. Many Meetings

Alrighty, I promised Nevasaiel that if she updated, I'd update, so here ya go! Thanks to all of my reviewers. 

****

**Chapter Four: Many Meetings**

  
  
After changing into the elvish day gown that Elrond had left for me, I set off to find him, as his note had instructed. I found both him and the renown wizard, Gandalf the Grey, in the courtyard that overlooked the gardens. They were sitting on a bench, talking in hushed tones. I still held some of the frustration towards Elrond from earlier, when he allowed my solitude to be invaded, and resisted the urge to storm in and give him a tongue lashing that would make my mother roll over in her grave. Instead, I walked in calmly, and they both looked up at me.  
  
Gandalf stood first. We'd only met a few times before, and rather the fatherly embrace that I recieved from Elrond, he stuck to a low bow. I nodded my head in recognition, and Elrond swept me into his arms again.  
  
"Silly," he began, after releasing me, "it is wonderful to see you again, but unfortunately, it always seems as though the darkest times are what brings us together."  
  
"Dark times, indeed," I replied, standing back from him. "What did you wish to see me about?"  
  
Elrond sighed. "Come, sit down." He led me over to the bench where he and Gandalf had been seated previously. "It seems some good news has come about. The fourth hobbit, Frodo--the one you had yet to meet--is doing much better. He's roaming around Rivendell as we speak, after recovering from the incident at Weathertop."  
  
"The Ringbearer."  
  
"Yes." Gandalf spoke. "But the wound he suffered from will be with him for the rest of his life."  
  
"And yet, to have come so far," said Elrond, "still bearing the Ring, the hobbit has showed extraordinary resilience to its evil."  
  
"It is a burden he should never have had to bear," Gandalf argued. "We can ask no more of Frodo."  
  
"I agree," I interjected. "It's amazing that Frodo came so far, but this does not give us the right to ask that he do...whatever it is your planning on asking him to do."  
  
"My friends, the enemy is moving," Elrond said tartly. "Sauron's forces are massing in the east. His Eye is fixed on Rivendell! And Saruman, you tell me, has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin."  
  
I recalled Lauxely saying something about Saruman turning to the other side. The thought of such a powerful wizard being a pawn in the Dark Lord's plan made me ill.  
  
Gandalf sighed. "His treachery runs deeper than you know. By foul craft, Saruman has crossed Orcs with goblin-men. He's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard...An army which can move in sunlight, and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring."  
  
"Why isn't it safe in Rivendell?" I asked them, confused. "Why can't we keep it here? The forces of darkness cannot enter here...can they?"  
  
"You don't understand, Silly." The Elf Lord looked away. "This evil cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard!" He stood, and wandered over to a fountain. He placed his hands on it, as if bracing himself. "The Ring cannot stay here."  
  
From our places on the bench, Gandalf and I stared. "This peril belongs to all Middle-earth. They must decide now how to end it. The time of the Elves is over. My people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The Dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others."  
  
"It is in Men that we must place our hope," Gandalf said softly.  
  
"Men!" Elrond scoffed, turning back to us. Men are weak. The race of Men is failing. The blood of Numenor is all but spent. Its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives. I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago...And Isildur took the Ring. I was there the day the strength of men failed."  
  
His eyes were cast to the side, remembering that day so long ago, his eyes telling the story that his mouth could not do justice to. "I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom. Where the Ring was forged. The one place it could be destroyed. It should have ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure. Isildur kept the Ring. The line of kings is broken. There's no strength left in the world of Men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."  
  
"They're not," I protested. "Aragorn--"  
  
"He is the one who could unite them," Gandalf interrupted. He nodded his head in agreement towards me. "He could reclaim the throne of Gondor."  
  
Elrond scowled. "He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "There is still time."  
  
"Time is something we do not have," Elrond said forcefully. His eyes darkened. "There was a reason why you were called here, Silly. If all else fails, we will need you to--"  
  
"I cannot," I said immediately. "When it comes to the Ring, there is not much I can do. As far as I know, just by touching it, it could suck the life force out of me. I cannot even enter Mordor. If you were to entrust me with this, you may as well just sign over your own death wish now."  
  
"It is true," Gandalf said, "that the vampire slayer cannot carry the Ring." He looked over at me, his blue eyes twinkling. "But there is something she can do." 

.................................................  
  
Thoughts flooded my mind as I ventured down to the stables later that day to see Amrun. Strider had trusted him to in the hands of the Rivendell stablemen, and to the best of my knowledge, were taking good care of him. I wandered into the barn, looking over the stall doors until I found him. He neighed in recognition, and I had to stand on my toes to reach over the door to pet him.   
  
"Lady Silly." I turned around, and saw a younger elf--younger than most elves, but certainly not younger than I--standing before me. "A parcel was delivered this morning, and Lord Elrond instructed me to bring it to you. You can keep them in the stables, if you like."  
  
"Oh," I said. "Thank you." He handed it to me, and off he went, leaving me alone in the stables once again.  
  
The parcel itself was rather large. It had come from an anonymous sender and location...which meant it was from Lauxely, Morwenna, or someone from the council. I sat down on a bench outside Amrun's stall. I tore open the paper wrapping to reveal...clothes. Some pants, shirts, and a pair of boots. Lauxely had even thrown in a few extra stakes and a new dagger. The only thing that was relatively curious about the package was the boots.  
  
They were large. If I were to wear them it would mean me standing at least three inches taller...which might not be a bad thing, considering. I'm only five-foot-four, shorter than slayers before me. Anyways, the boots were made of leather and came up halfway to the calf. I picked one up and studied it, wondering why Lauxely would send me a pair of boots when the ones I had were fine.  
  
I turned the shoe around, to look at it from the front. On the edge of the toe, there was a tiny black button, practically invisible. I began to recall something about one of the member's of Lauxely's council coming up with some sort of new technology that would benefit the slayer...well, me. Curious, I pressed the button.   
  
To my surprise, out of the heel, a trapdoor opened and a stake popped out. I stared for a moment, then threw back my head and laughed out loud. Only one of Lauxely's idiots could come up with something like this.  
  
Still chuckling, I pressed the button again and the stake retreated into its little hiding place. I marveled at it for a moment longer.   
  
"My lady. I did not recognize you with your clothes on."  
  
My head snapped around to see Legolas, standing at the barn door. "How long have you been standing there?" I asked him nervously, wondering if he had seen the stake within the heel.  
  
"Not long," he replied, walking over to me. He eyed the boot. "That's some...interesting footwear you've got. A chunk of a heel like that would have to be a burden."  
  
"Maybe so, but it serves its purpose." I stood, folded the boots and clothes back into the paper they'd been delivered in, and put them in a cabinet next to Amrun's stall. I turned back to him. "What brings you down here?"  
  
Legolas didn't say anything. He was staring at something else, something on my head. Without saying anything, he reached up and took a strand of my hair between his fingers. He spoke, finally. "Your hair is red."  
  
I stepped back, and pulled my hair from his grasp. "My mother had red hair."  
  
"Had? Oh." He stepped back as well, giving me room to stand beside him so we could walk together. "How did she...?"  
  
I shrugged. "She died when I was a child."  
  
Legolas seemed to accept that excuse. I really didn't think I needed to tell him that my mother had died over seven hundred years ago. He looked off to the side, somewhere...over the city, over the mountains, or maybe even beyond. "My mother's gone, too," he said. "Well, not _gone_ gone. She grew ill about three hundred years ago, and sailed to the Grey Havens. She's still there, I think...waiting for us. My father and I."   
  
"Hmm." We exited the barns and began the quiet journey up to the dining room. The path for us was lit with fireflies, as the sun began to set behind the dome towers of the city.  
  
"Was she...like you?" Legolas asked, breaking the silence.  
  
Surprised by the question, I paused to think, and remember. "She, uh...No, she wasn't like me. She uh, sang me songs and read me stories. Fairy tales...the good ones with the princesses that go to sleep and wake up from a prince's kiss and live happily ever after. She was always cleaning, too. It wasn't really her house, she was a guest. She had to earn her keep. So she was always sweeping or something. She had this...pearl necklace that she always wore. I think her father gave them to her. But she was always wearing them, even when she was scrubbing floors or cleaning the stables or something."  
  
"Why do you say she wasn't like you?" he asked, glancing at me.  
  
I stared down at the path we were walking along. "She liked being around people. She liked parties and dancing and laughing...I prefer my solitude."  
  
An amused look crossed the prince's face. "So I _did_ interrupt your bath this morning."  
  
The statement made me burst into laughter. Unexpected, but pleasant laughter. "Yes, you did. But I'm not going to hold it against you."  
  
Thankfully, the mood of our conversation lightened after that, and we cheerily made our way up to the dining room.


	6. Conversations

**Chapter Four: Conversations**

  
  
As Legolas and I entered the dining hall, I felt more cheerful than I had in years. I'd forgotten how much I could enjoy the company of another person, even if it was just one person. Even though I couldn't tell him who I really was, I merely enjoyed being in his presence, talking about whatever entered our minds at the moment.  
  
We were seated at the table opposite one another, amongst a group of elves, men--including Strider--and even dwarves. Both elves sitting on either side of me were over six feet tall, towering over me. I sat up straighter in my chair, and Legolas took notice.  
  
"I think our new vertically challenged friend might find herself more at home amongst the hobbits than with us, don't you agree?" he joked, invoking laughter from around the table.  
  
I smirked, unfazed by the height comment. "Although I may be shorter than what is conceived as normal, I am no mental midget. Which is more than I can say for you."  
  
The same group of elves that had laughed at me before were laughing with me now. Out of the corner of my eye, I even saw Strider lower his head so that he could chuckle a little.  
  
"Don't let 'im mock ya, milady," said one of the dwarves. He, too, was having difficulty seeing over the elf-sized table. I leaned forward so that I could see him better. "T'be honest, I could fit ya in me saddlebag, but there's somethin' in ya tha' no elf or man can break. Spirit, milady, great spirit! Something that, up to this point, I'd only recognized in dwarves!"  
  
I smiled, probably one of the first genuine smiles in a long time. I'm sure one of the elves would have made some less-than-flattering comeback had Merry and Pippin not entered the hall then, laughing and bouncing along. Nearly everyone in the room stopped to look at them, not knowing what to do, and simply smiling at them. They took their seats at the end of the table, on elevated chairs and cushions brought in just for them. Pippin spotted me and waved, and I waved back.  
  
A noise distracted me then, and I looked to the doorway to see Sam. He was leading another hobbit along, as though he were having trouble walking. This must be Frodo, I thought. He was slightly paler than his friends, walking more slowly, and bore a forced smile on his face. He was fairer than the other three, yet from the look in his eyes, he had an old soul.  
  
As Frodo made his way closer towards the table, I could feel the area around me becoming colder. I swore I felt a draft, and I shivered. I could not take my eyes off the hobbit, and they widened when the Ring that hung around his neck came into view. At that moment, I felt the most undescribable moment of pain that I'd ever felt in my entire life. Everything around me dimmed, faded to grey, and everything inside me felt cold. I felt drained, but there was a burning in my chest. It was as though every tiny bit of heat had travelled and rested in my heart, and was burning me alive. It rose up to my throat, suffocating me. I blinked slowly, feeling the heat rise up, swearing that at any moment, it would swallow me whole....  
  
Until I felt someone violently shaking my left arm. "My lady!" said the elf to my side. "I would appreciate it if you didn't lean on me."  
  
"Uh, sorry," I said, sheepishly. I sat up straight, realizing that the pain that I had felt before had completely abandoned me. From across the table, I could see a worried look pass over Legolas's face.  
  
"Are you alright, Silly?" he asked softly. "You looked ill."  
  
I darted a glance down to where the hobbits were sitting. The four of them were sitting together, talking loudly and laughing every now and then. Frodo seemed more comfortable sitting down, and was slightly more cheerful than when I had first seen him. The Ring had now been carefully hidden under his shirt. I let out an internal sigh and turned back to Legolas.  
  
"Yes," I told him. "I'm perfectly fine."  
  
..................................................................................................................  
  
Dinner commenced as usual. We began as soon as Elrond and his family entered and were seated. I stayed fairly quiet after my strange reaction to the Ring, answering only questions that were asked of me, and staying out of the conversations around me.  
  
At one point during the evening, a guard from the outside walked over to Elrond and whispered something in his ear. He looked slightly alarmed, and gestured for Gandalf, Elladen and Elrohir to stand. He stood as well, and I watched as Elrohir strode over to me.   
  
He bent down and whispered in my ear. "We need to see you for a few moments," he said softly.   
  
I stood, glad for the interruption. Legolas looked confused, and stood as well. "My lady..."  
  
"Stay," I commanded. I bit my lip, regretting the harshness in my tone. "I'll only be gone for a few moments."  
  
He sat reluctantly back into his chair, and I let Elrohir lead me out of the dining hall and into a hallway. Elrond, Elladen, Gandalf, and the guard were waiting out there for us. "What's going on?"  
  
Elrond looked quite miffed. "It seems as though a...vampire has been found in Rivendell." He said the word _vampire_ as though there was a bad taste on the end of his tongue.  
  
Gandalf raised a pair of surprised eyebrows, and I cocked my head to the side, disbelievingly. "But that's impossible," I argued. "No vampires are to enter here...at least not without an invitation."  
  
"Apparently...it was an elvish vampire."  
  
I raised my head slightly, understandingly. Elrohir looked confused. "Elves can turn into vampires?"  
  
"Any living thing can turn into a vampire," I explained. "A squirrel could turn into a vampire. Elves tend to fall victim to vampires only when they are near death. If they are hurt in battle, and are not ready to give into life so quickly, they could turn to a vampire for help, do this really disgusting blood letting ritual, and it's finished. They don't die."  
  
"The cowardice of these elves is the only reason I have for being even the tiniest bit ashamed for my kind," Elrond said quietly. "Come, now. This needs to be sorted out immediately."  
  
The five of us followed the guard into a dungeon-like area where the vampire was being held. He led us to a small cell near the end of the room, wherin stood what appeared to be a vampire. He paced back and forth in his cellblock, completely calm...he was anything but vampire-esque. He certainly looked like an elvish vampire, though...bumpy forehead, sharp fangs, yellow eyes, elf ears, and long dark hair. But there was something about him that did not make him look as threatening as some other enemies I had come across.  
  
"Let me in there with him," I told the guard.  
  
"Silly," said Elrond, trying to reason with me.  
  
The guard hesitated, and I nodded to him. He pulled out the key for the cell, and unlocked it. I slipped in quickly, then instructed him to close it and lock it behind me. I turned to the vampire, who looked confused as to why he was being intruded upon.  
  
We stared at each other a few moments, then I spoke. "Are you hungry?" I asked him, eying him. I had a theory that needed testing.  
  
He growled. "Yes."  
  
I pulled my hair over to one shoulder, leaving one bare, revealing my neck. "Then drink. I care not."  
  
Elrond stepped forward, as though to stop me, but Gandalf held him back. The vampire took an uncertain step towards me, and I did not waver. He kept coming closer, slowly, until we were but mere inches apart. I held my neck out further, and he opened his mouth. He lowered his mouth to my neck...but nothing. His fangs sat there for but a moment, then pushed a little. Still, nothing.  
  
I rolled my eyes, and pushed him off me. Hard. He landed on the floor on his back, his eyes wide. "This is no vampire," I said. "Whoever he is, he is under some sort of veiling spell. Gandalf, I'll let you do the honors."  
  
Gandalf stepped up to the bars of the cell, and I picked up the 'vampire' by the scruff of his neck. I thrust him forward to where Gandalf was standing. The wizard muttered a few soft words and waved a hand in front of his face. Before I knew it, I was no longer clutching a hideous elvish vampire, but a much smaller, and much less-threatening human. A man, with chin-length black hair and dark eyes. He whimpered.  
  
"Well, here's a first for me," I said, setting him down. "A human disguised as an elf disguised as a vampire. A spy for Sauron, no doubt."  
  
"Are you going to kill me?" he asked, frightened. He scooted back against the wall, cowering.  
  
I sighed. "No, I'm not going to kill you. To kill you would make you seem important, and you are nothing more than a pawn in the Dark Lord's plan. He doesn't care if you live or die. But you might have some information that we could use. Am I right?"  
  
He didn't say anything. He stayed against the wall, whimpering under his breath. I rolled my eyes, and turned back to my companions.  
  
"Double the guard around Rivendell," I instructed. "Triple it at night. I don't know how many more of these spies there are, but they can enter the city and create havoc."  
  
The guard looked unsure, and turned to Elrond, who nodded. "Do as she says." He looked back at me. "What should we do about our prisoner, here?"  
  
I looked back at the man, then turned back to the guard, who let me quickly out of the cell. "Keep someone around here at all times. I don't want him left unguarded. No food or toiletry privelages; water only. If he decides he wants to talk, find me. Until then, keep him under close surveillance."  
  
The guard then, realizing who was _really_ in charge, rushed off to do his duty. Gandalf turned to face Elrond as we began walking back towards the dining hall. "Should we warn the members of the council of these spies at the meeting?"  
  
"I'm not sure if we're even going to have a meeting at this point," Elrond replied, a tired look on his face. "Denethor has yet to send any word on Gondor's position in my council."  
  
"What day is it now?" asked Elrohir.  
  
"October the twenty-fourth," replied Gandalf. "This council really cannot be delayed any longer, Elrond."  
  
He shut his eyes, and reopened them. "I agree." He looked back at Elrohir. "My son, send word to our guests that the meeting is to take place tomorrow at noon in the east courtyard. Silly, I'll leave it up to you to tell your...escort."  
  
I noticed his hesitation on the last word, and frowned. Elladen and Elrohir exchanged a glance, and I eyed them, suspiciously. "What?" I snapped. Elrohir dared to smirk a tiny bit, and I glared at him. "I'm not going to marry him or anything! He just asked me if he could escort me to dinner...which was already an uncomfortable enough situation, seeing as how you so readily sent him into my bathing quarters this morning."  
  
Elladen and Elrohir roared with laughter, and a twitch of a smile crossed Gandalf's face. Elrond merely raised an eyebrow. "I thought you would have been out of there by the time I sent him in. I'm also quite surprised you let him stay."  
  
"And it's not like you wouldn't welcome some...fun," Elladen added, still laughing. "Legolas is a good match for you, _Caran._ He's attractive, not looking to settle down, and is a good friend."  
  
I groaned. "Can we, for once, pretend that my private life is just that...my private life?"  
  
"No," Elrohir joked, and they started laughing again.   
  
"Really," I began, lecturing them, "this really isn't the time for me to be cavorting around without a care in the world. Middle Earth is on the verge of war, and I'm the vampire slayer. This...thing with Legolas is just a thing. A dinner. We have more important things to be worried about."  
  
"She's right," Gandalf said softly. "The fate of Middle Earth is not an easy weight on our shoulders. Our concentration must be poured into destroying the Ring."  
  
There was an agreeing silence following his speech as we made our way back to the dining hall. Elrond and his sons went ahead to take their seats, and I went to take mine, but before I could, Gandalf grabbed me by the forearm and held me.  
  
"Silly," he said quietly, "I meant what I said before, how we should be concentrating on the Ring. But you have a right to be happy, mellonamin."  
  
I averted my eyes, and he continued. "I know about your affair with Arathorn, and the amount of grief you must have felt. And although being the slayer has lassoed you with an enormous amount of responsibilities, but not being able to love isn't one of them. Legolas is a good person, Celaena."  
  
He squeezed my shoulder, but I shook him off of me. "I know."  
  
I didn't say anything else to him; I just went and took my seat. Legolas eyed me curiously, probably wondering what had happened while we had been gone. I avoided his gaze and ate the rest of my dinner without saying a word. 


	7. Boromir

_here's a sneeze of a chapter. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!_

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**Chapter Six: Boromir**

  
  
After dinner, we adjourned to a small ballroom for some light entertainment...dancing, music, and the like. I don't dance, though, so I mostly just sat with Legolas. We sat close, closer than comfortable might have been with anyone else, but with Legolas, I didn't mind so much. When the hour grew late and my eyes began to droop, he even let me rest my head on his shoulder.  
  
Elrond was not very participative in the evening activities as well. He sat deep in thought, probably worried about what tomorrow would bring. His eyes were dark, and his brow permanently etched into a frown. His thought process was interrupted, though, when one of his guards walked into the room and whispered in his ear for the second time that night. Elrond stood, and followed the guard out of the room. Curious eyes followed his retreating back.  
  
"I wonder if something is amiss," Legolas said, softly.   
  
I shook my head. "I don't know."  
  
Elrond reentered the room then, but at his side was a man, someone new. He looked vaguely familiar, but I was tired and could not process his face. He walked beside Elrond as the elf lord strode over to us. Legolas and I stood as they approached.  
  
"My friends," Elrond said, looking more than a little relieved, "it gives me great honor to introduce to you Boromir, son of Denethor, and Captain-General of Gondor. Boromir, this is Legolas, son of Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, and Celaena of the Weather Hills."  
  
Boromir bowed deeply, as did Legolas. I stuck to a small curtsy, never taking my eyes off of him. Boromir was fair...he was tall and strong, and his grey eyes were hypnotising. "It is an honor to meet both of you," he said at last, straightening himself. "It would be more of an honor had we the chance to meet on a more pleasant occasion."   
  
"I am at least pleased, though, that Denethor finally answered the request I sent to him," Elrond sighed, a relieved look on his face. "I sent for a representative from Gondor more than two weeks ago..."  
  
"Two weeks?" said Boromir, confused. "I left Minas Tirith with a small troop of men back in July...in response to a dream that both my brother and I had." He sighed. "I see why you had no response from my father, though. As wise as he is, he still finds no reason to trust elves. I find no reason not to."  
  
Upon this information and comment, a troubled look crossed Elrond's face. He inhaled deeply. "All of this will be discussed at the meeting tomorrow. Until then..." He gestured around the room. "Enjoy the festivities."   
  
With that, Elrond left the room, overcome with worry. I stared at his retreating back, worried for his troubled mind. My gaze faltered only when a small cough was heard. I turned my head, seeing that it was Boromir.  
  
"My lord Legolas," he began, "if you do not mind, I would like to borrow your friend Celaena for a dance."  
  
I looked at him, and he looked back at me. His blue eyes were unreadable. I didn't like not being able to read him. He cleared his throat. "You will have to ask the lady. She is perfectly capable of making her own decisions."  
  
I had wanted Legolas to say no. I wanted him to tell Boromir that I had two left feet, that I had consumption, that I was dropped on my head when I was a baby...anything to make him go away. The one time in my life I wanted someone else to have even the tiniest amount of control over me, he gave me the reins. Respectable, yet I hated him for it. I didn't want to have anything to do with the son of the Steward of Gondor.  
  
Boromir turned back to me. Before he could say anything, I told him firmly, "I don't dance."  
  
He was silent for a moment, then laughed. He LAUGHED at me. "Of course you do," was all he said. "Every noblewoman can dance." Without saying another word, he took my hand, and led me onto the dance floor. I obliged, not because he was stronger than me, but because I had no desire to make a scene. As I was led away, I threw one more glance at Legolas, who was just as surprised as I was. He had more than one emotion on his face, though...surprise, yes, among hurt and jealousy. There was a sharp pain in my chest...I hadn't meant to hurt him...  
  
My thoughts went back to the man I was dancing with. Boromir. The son of a man I despised, the descendant of the man who had cast the vampire slayers out of our city all those years ago. Now the White City was overrun with vampires, and who had Denethor blamed it on? Me. No doubt his hatred had poisoned his own son's mind. No doubt the man who held me in his arms at that moment held some sort of strange vendetta against me and my kind.  
  
Boromir spoke then, as if attempting to make small talk. "Ah...Elrond said you were of the Weather Hills. I didn't know they were inhabitated."  
  
"Er...we are a small number," I fibbed. "Small but strong." Well, again, I didn't completely lie.  
  
He either did not hear my answer or simply disregarded it. "Have you ever been to the White City, my lady?"  
  
I didn't like that question. "Yes, a long time ago. Unfortunately, I...didn't get to see much of it."  
  
"You must come again, then. When this...ordeal is over and done with, I'll take you to Minas Tirith. It is more beautiful than you can ever imagine. I'd love to show it to you."  
  
The way he spoke made me jealous. He spoke of the home I never knew, the one that Lauxely missed so much. I swallowed, and replied, "That sounds wonderful."  
  
Boromir continued talking. "I must admit, I was surprised when Elrond mentioned that you were one of his closest allies. After all, you are a woman."  
  
I glowered. "I am more than a woman."  
  
"Of course you are." I hated the tone with which he said that. It wasn't quite mocking...more like a brush-off, when you pat a silly child on the head. It irritated me beyond reason, and I resisted the urge to dig my fingernails into the back of his neck.  
  
The song we were dancing to ended. I must have left Boromir's arms too quickly, because as I made my way back to where Legolas was seated, he grabbed my elbow and spun me back around.   
  
"My lady," he said, gripping my arm. "Allow me to escort you back to your...bedchamber."  
  
Until this day, I had no mortal enemies. But Boromir was borderline to becoming one. I snatched my arm away from his grip and backed away. "I came here tonight with Legolas," I said, a smirk hiding my anger. "I plan on leaving with him."  
  
I turned back around, not able to face him once more. I stalked back to where Legolas was waiting for me. He stood up when I came to him. Alarmed, he said, "Silly, what...Did he hurt you?"  
  
"He tried," was my only reply, a growl in my throat. "I'd appreciate it if we could leave now."  
  
"Of course." Legolas gently took my arm, and we walked quickly out of the ballroom. I dropped my head to avoid any looks of discontent that Boromir might be throwing me.   
  
Instead of retreating to my bedchamber, as Boromir had suggested, I marched outside, untangling my arm from Legolas. Not even bothering to stay on the path, I strode straight into the grass, marching down the hill aimlessly. Legolas was not far behind. I reached the bottom of the hill, almost to the trees, and my legs slipped out from under me. I fell to the ground in a sitting position, and groaned. Not wanting to get back up, I laid back on the grass, looking up at the stars. They were soon shrouded by the outline of Legolas's head. His face expressed worry, but I could see amusement in his brilliant blue eyes. I shut my own eyes, and heard him as he sat down on the ground next to me.  
  
A few moments of silence went by. Then I spoke. "I am meat on a stick."  
  
Legolas gave a surprised cough. "Beg pardon?" 

I sighed, having feared he would not understand my analogy. "It's like...those horrible little children that will tie a piece of meat onto a stick, then latch it to some poor hound's tail, and laugh as he chases it round and round. That's how Boromir made me feel just now. Like I was a piece of meat."  
  
"Aye," said Legolas, the anger in his tone evident. "You are much more than that." His hand somehow found its way to my hair, and he stroked it gently. _"Ruinamin."_  
  
His fingers glided over my scalp, and I hummed in pleasure. "My Elvish is rusty. What does that mean?"  
  
_"Ruinamin?"_ he asked. "It means..._my red flame._" He paused, and leaned over to look me in the eyes. "Tell if I am out of line, Silly, for I hate for you to be hurt twice this night."  
  
"Hmmm." I let myself be lost in the soft movements of his hands across my head. "You words are soothing. I doubt I would be able to find any hidden venom in them."  
  
There was a comfortable silence. We didn't move, didn't speak...just enjoyed each other's company. Then Legolas said, "You are strong, Silly. There are not many noblewomen who would be able to turn down a man like Lord Boromir. I would do my best to prevent him from harming you, but I believe that you can easily do that on your own."  
  
Part of me wanted to tell him that I was no noblewoman. I was the vampire slayer, and yes, I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. But part of being a vampire slayer is the hidden identity. And also the fact that people don't tend to take that news very well.  
  
Instead, we laid back together in silence well into the night. As I watched the stars, I prayed that Elbereth and all that was good in the world would not take away the friendship that I found this night.

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_well, that's it for now! Please R&R!_


	8. The Council of Elrond

hey there, thanks to all who are reading this. I'm going to make this A/N short because ff.net is being a bitch right now. I know those of you who reviewed had a lot of questions, so hopefully they will be answered in this chapter. I might not be able to update again until next week, so this nice long chapter should keep you satisfied for awhile. enjoy!

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**Chapter Seven: The Council of Elrond**

  
  
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old," Elrond began. "You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate--this one doom."   
  
I sighed, inwardly. As important as this issue was, Elrond had a way of making even the most threatening things seem boring.   
  
It was the next afternoon, and I was seating in an uncomfortable chair in an uncomfortable situation. Around me were the men, elves, and dwarves of Middle Earth, all gathered to represent their people in Elrond's council. Among them were Strider, Frodo, Gandalf, Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, and Boromir. I sat in between a dwarf and a man...and was the only woman present. Upon my arrival, Boromir had glared at me and complained loudly about how a woman should not be present today. Elrond silenced him with a glare, and Legolas looked ready to strangle him.  
  
But all of that was quickly forgotten. Elrond gestured towards the pedastal in the center of the courtyard and nodded encouragingly towards Frodo. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."  
  
Frodo reluctantly stood and made his way towards the pedastal. He set the Ring down on it, and quickly made his way back to his seat. He was nervous, I could tell.  
  
My eyes quickly went back to the Ring. There it was. The symptoms I had felt the other night--the coldness, the burning in my chest, the faintness--all returned, but to a smaller degree. The effect of the Ring was taking its toll on me, but growing weaker as time went by. It glittered with evil, I could feel it.  
  
A voice broke my thoughts. "So it is true."  
  
The speaker had been Boromir. I turned to him, and he seemed absolutely mesmerized by it. I knew what was happening...the Ring was speaking to him. What it was telling him, I did not know.  
  
Boromir stood to address the Council. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, 'Your doom is near at hand.'" He slowly approached the Ring, reaching out to it. "Isildur's Bane is found."  
  
I sucked in my breath, not wanting this man of the South to be anywhere near the Ring. I saw Gandalf and Elrond exchanged a concerned glance, and Boromir's fingers hovered over it.  
  
"Isildur's Bane is found," he whispered.  
  
Elrond stood up. "Boromir!"  
  
The sky suddenly darkened, and Gandalf leaned forward in his seat. His eyes lost their glimmer, and clouded over. Boromir looked stunned, and looked at Gandalf as he began to speak.  
  
_"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,  
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"_  
  
I could feel the blood in my veins turn to ice. The Black Speech. I could have recognized it if I'd heard it backwards and underwater.  
  
Gandalf took a deep breath, and said in the common tongue,  
  
"One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
One Ring to rule them all, and in the darkess, bind them."  
  
Members of the Council looked on, horrified. Boromir reluctantly returned to his seat, and Elrond glared at Gandalf. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!"  
  
"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" Gandalf's voice was still somewhat raspy from the effects of the language. "The Ring is altogether evil!" He cast Boromir a scathing look, and settled back in his seat.  
  
The Son of the Steward was unaffected. "It is a gift," he mused. "A gift to the foes of Mordor!" He stood again, but did not leave his seat. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"  
  
I rolled my eyes, and Strider spoke up. "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."  
  
"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir asked venomously.  
  
Legolas's temper had been simmering for the past few minutes, and I feared it had now reached a full boil. He stood as well, and began shouting at Boromir. "This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."  
  
It felt good to see Boromir be put in his place. "Aragorn?" He sputtered. "This...is Isildur's _heir?"_  
  
"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas added. I hid a grin. For some reason, seeing an Elf get smug and shirty amused me.  
  
Apparently, Strider didn't think so. _"Havo dad_, Legolas."  
  
"Gondor has no king," Boromir spat out, sitting back down. "Gondor needs no king."  
  
"Aragorn is right," Gandalf said, returning to the topic. "We cannot use it."  
  
"You have only one choice," Elrond said, gazing around the room. "The Ring must be destroyed."  
  
A dwarf, seated a few people down from where I was, stood, and raised his axe. "Then what are we waiting for?" He charged at the pedastal with full force, and lowered his weapon, preparing to strike the Ring.  
  
The effects were disastrous. The Ring repelled him flying back, and his axe flew into a million pieces upon contact. From across from where I was seated, I saw Frodo wince in pain, and shield his eyes. My chest burned, my heart ached, and my body went cold. The pain eased slightly as Gimli sat up, grumbling, and went back to his chair.  
  
Elrond's eyes darkened. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." He hesitated. "One of you must do this."  
  
A dead silence fell over the Council. Finally, Boromir spoke, his voice shaky. "One does not simply walk into Mordor! Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"  
  
Elrond sighed. "There was one person, we thought, who might be able to bear this burden. The strongest of all mortals in Middle Earth. Unfortunately, her heart is burned by the mere presence of the Ring. To touch it would mean to extract any will she had against it." He paused for effect. "The vampire slayer."  
  
I had expected wary glances from those who knew my identity. But Elladan and Elrohir kept their faces stoic, Gandalf stared straight ahead at Elrond, and Strider looked just as broody as usual.   
  
Not to my surprise, Boromir was the first to speak. "The vampire slayer!" he scoffed. "Strongest of all mortals? How about greatest of all cowards? The slayers and watchers fled from Minas Tirith over a thousand years ago, fearing the overflowing boundaries of Mordor as the White City became infested with these undead. And who is to blame? The vampire slayer."  
  
I spoke, suddenly, surprising myself. "The vampire slayers did not flee Gondor," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Others turned, as if just now recognizing my presence within the Council. "They were banished by Mardil, the first ruling Steward. One of your ancestors, I believe." I glared at him. "Too afraid were the Stewards of someone in their land that had more power than they did."  
  
"That is a lie!" he cried.   
  
"Unfortunately, the Lady Silly speaks the truth, Boromir," Gandalf said softly. "For some reason or another, the slayers were banned from entering Gondor. Ever."  
  
Boromir turned to give me a snide look. "You are a fool for sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong, woman."  
  
I grit my teeth, trying to hold back my anger. "I told you last night," I growled. "I am more than a woman."  
  
"And how would some maiden know anything about the vampire slayer?" he spat out.  
  
Before I could stop myself, I stood and shouted angrily, "Because I _am_ the vampire slayer, you half-wit!"  
  
Silence echoed throughout the courtyard. All eyes had turned to stare at me, but mine already had a focal point. I stood in front of my seat, glaring at Boromir, my hands clenched in fists. The expression on his face, though priceless, was one of utter fear. I inched closer to him, and Elrond stood in alarm. "Silly, please--"  
  
"No." I waved him off. "Sit down, Elrond. This man needs to be set in his place." Elrond sat, stunned that I had not only not addressed him as 'Lord Elrond,' but also because my presence held some sort of power that he couldn't shake.   
  
I came up to Boromir, who sat still in his seat. "Tell me, Boromir," I began, my words laced with poision, "tell me, who exactly in Valar do you think you are? Are you some sort of god? Do you think you're somehow better than everyone here? That you could overpower Sauron for control of the Ring?  
  
"Well, let me tell you straight away that you're NOT. Do you hear me? You're nothing but a self-righteous, self-centered, arrogant, perverted, naiive, ignorant..." I racked my brain. I was running out of adjectives. "...pathetic excuse for a man!"  
  
"Silly." It was Legolas's voice, and it was calm. But I was not, and I would not remain calm.  
  
"You complain about how Minas Tirith is overflowing with vampires, yet you do not seem so equipped to handle them. Did it not occur to you that I--we--tried to help you? I _tried_, I did. Half a century ago. And your father, the one you speak so highly of? He had me arrested, and thrown into that dungeon of yours. For a year!"  
  
Boromir was squirming. He looked uncomfortable, like a child who had been caught lying to his mother. But I was not his mother, and I could not punish him. "I should torture you, bend you, castrate you, crush you, and break you six ways from Sunday just for the way you spoke to me last night. But hopefully, the truth will be enough punishment and embarrassment for you for one day. But watch what you say, for the next woman you come across might not be so...understanding."  
  
I turned and stalked back to my seat, all eyes on me. I glared at Elrond, who, in turn, glared back at me. "In the future, Silly, I would prefer it if you did not use my council time to make a scene."  
  
"My apologies, my lord," I said, my mouth dripping with sarcasm.   
  
There was an impatient sigh from across the circle, and we all turned to look at Strider. "Vampire slayer or not," he said, "there is still the matter of destroying the Ring, and who is going to do it."  
  
"But how?" asked one of the Gondorian men. "As Lord Boromir said, it is impossible! There is no way that we'll be able to walk into Mordor unseen."  
  
Legolas stood up angrily. "Have you heard nothing the Lord Elrond has said?" he cried. "The Ring must be destroyed!"  
  
Gimli, who had attempted earlier to destroy the Ring, stood as well. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!"  
  
Boromir finally stood, coming out of his shock from my accusations. "And if we fail, what then?! What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"  
  
Gimli growled. "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"  
  
We all stood up then, shouting and arguing with each other over who would take the Ring. I found myself picking on Boromir again, but this time he had the courage to stand up to me.   
  
"What have you got to say in the matter, slayer?" he asked, ticked. "The Ring is your poison. To take it to Mordor would be the death of you!"  
  
"I'd rather die taking it to Mordor than have you take it and live on afterwards!" I shouted in retaliation.  
  
"One less slayer to worry about!"  
  
The commotion only increased. From somewhere amongst the others, I heard Gandalf say, "Do you not understand that while we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron's power grows?! None can escape it! You'll all be destroyed!"  
  
As right as he was, I couldn't bring myself to end the argument with Boromir. He made some comment about me being a red-haired whore, and I mocked the large space between his eyes, and we bantered back and forth for a few minutes, until I heard the tiniest voice say, "I will take it."  
  
I turned around, and saw Frodo sitting still in his chair. The intensity of the arguing had only swelled, so the halfling stood up and shouted "I will take it!"  
  
Our noise died down then, and everyone turned their eyes to Frodo, astonished."I will take the Ring to Mordor," he said, bravely. "Though - though I do not know the way."  
  
Gandalf shut his eyes, and reopened them. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear."  
  
Strider stepped forward then. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." He knelt until he was at Frodo's eye level. "You have my sword."  
  
"And you have my bow!" Legolas stepped forward eagerly, joining the growing group of compatriots.  
  
"And my axe!" said Gimli. As he walked over the group, he gave Legolas a wary glance, obviously not pleased by the presence of the Elf.  
  
Knowing what I had to do, I inhaled, swallowing my pride, and strode over to stand next to Gimli. "In your name, Master Baggins, and all that is good in the world, I will see to it that you succeed in destroying the Ring." From out of the corner of my eye, I saw Legolas smile at me.  
  
To my disgust, Boromir walked over to stand next to me. "You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."  
  
Suddenly, a voice came from nowhere. "Here!"   
  
Out of the bushes darted Sam, the chubby hobbit. He dashed over to Frodo clumsily and stood at his side. "Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"  
  
"No indeed," said Elrond, hardly amused. "It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret Council, and you are not."  
  
"Oi! We're coming, too!"  
  
My eyes drifted from Elrond and over to the steps, to see Merry and Pippin dart out from behind two columns and make their way over to us. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" said Merry, jovially.  
  
"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission...quest...thing," said Pippin, grinning importantly.  
  
Merry scoffed. "Well, that rules you out, Pip."  
  
Strider and I exchanged amused glances, and Frodo grinned, happy to have his friends along for the journey.   
  
"Ten companions," Elrond mused, surveying us carefully. "So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"  
  
"Great!" Pippin chirped. "Where are we going?"

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Later that evening, I was doing my best to avoid the other council and Fellowship members. Now that I'd blown my cover and everyone knew me as the vampire slayer, I could compromise my _real_ mission in Middle Earth...the one I was born to do. I journeyed down to the stables to see Amrûn, only to be followed by curious minds.  
  
"Silly! Silly, wait up!"  
  
I turned in time to see the four hobbits running clumsily down the stable path, Pippin in the lead. They caught up to me after a few minutes, and Pippin said, "Hello! What are you up to?"  
  
"Ahh...nothing. I was just going down to the stables to my horse." I saw their delighted faces, Sam's especially, and sighed to myself. "Would you like to join me?"  
  
"Yes!" they chorused, and I couldn't help but grin. We continued down the path and into the barn, and I led them over to where Amrûn was in his stall. I dragged over a step stool so that they could take turns standing on it and petting him, and he was absolutely thrilled to see the hobbits again. I watched them from the side of his stall, steadying them so that the wouldn't topple over, and wondering who would have the nerve to ask me about my slayerdom first.  
  
Apparently, it was Frodo. As I led Amrûn out of his stall and out onto the grassy area behind the stables, he walked along next to me. "During the Council, you said you were a...a vampire slayer," he said curiously. "Exactly, what is that?"  
  
"Oh, haven't you never heard the songs, Mister Frodo?" Sam piped up. "The one girl, the Chosen One! Stronger then all of the men in Middle Earth, the only one who will stand against the vampires and forces of darkness!" I gave him a small smile, and he blushed. "'Course, I don't know what all that means, but..."  
  
I laughed. I sat on the grass, and they sat down next to me as Amrûn went off to graze for awhile. "All it means is that I get to live a long, lonely life of killing vampires, demons, orcs, and whatever gets in my way."  
  
The hobbits began asking a million questions at once. "How old are you?"  
  
"How do you kill a vampire?"  
  
"Are you an Elf? You don't look like an Elf."  
  
"Where do slayers come from?"  
  
"Are you really going to castrate Boromir?"  
  
"Are you _sure_ you're stronger than all of them men in Middle Earth?"  
  
It was Merry who asked that last question, and he did so quite skeptically. I just smiled. "If you ever find someone whom you think is stronger, be sure to let me know."  
  
I looked around, seeing the curious hobbits waiting for my answer anxiously. I sighed. "Maybe I should just tell you the entire story.  
  
"A long time ago, when Sauron was just beginning to gain power, he began breeding a new type of enemy. They walked, talked, and acted just like any living thing, but they feed off the blood of the living. They were vampires.  
  
"Unfortunately, they were some of Sauron's earlier experiments," I explained. "There were several faults to them. They couldn't come into your house unless they were invited, they could not come out while the sun was out, and they were burned by water from the Enchanted Stream.   
  
"But as many faults as they have, they have twice as many strengths. They are super strong, have an unnatural connection to the land of Mordor, and can multiply quickly and dangerously. They are undead--not dead, not alive. But they walk Arda anyways."  
  
"So, if a vampire sucks your blood out, will you turn into a vampire?" Merry asked, curiously.  
  
I shook my head. "No. To turn into a vampire, you have to suck their blood. First they suck your blood, then you suck their blood...it's this really disgusting...sucking ritual." I saw Sam turn slightly green.  
  
"Anyways...the spirits of the Valar saw the vampires beginning to overpopulate Middle Earth, and decided that an intervention was necessary. Remember, Pippin, when I told you that I was of closer kin to you than Strider?" He nodded. "Well, that's because the Valar chose to bless a Shire Elf. They gave him eternal life, and seed that would produce offspring more powerful than any mortal creature that walked Middle Earth."  
  
"Uh...Shire Elf?" Frodo asked, confused.  
  
"Yes...they are the ancestors of the halflings. They're only about five and a half feet tall, have magnificent golden hair, and have mostly sailed to the Grey Havens now, save for the blessed one. And that," I added dramatically, dropping backwards onto the grass, "is why I am so unbelievably short."  
  
They laughed, and I laughed along with them. Then, Sam said, "Where is this Shire Elf now?"  
  
I rolled my eyes and waved my hand around. "Off somewhere in the woods, probably breeding with some poor human girl who's got nothing left to do but sell her body to the watchers."  
  
"Watchers?" Pippin asked.  
  
"Oh...yes, watchers. How could I forget?" I felt like smacking myself for not mentioning them up until now. "They're pretty much just really old men. A watcher is assigned to a slayer to help her train and prepare for what is to come in her life, should she be called. My watcher is this _really_ old man named Lauxely, who's just as old as Elrond. Only he hasn't aged as...gracefully."  
  
"Wait...I'm confused," Merry said, scrunching his brow. "So...this one Elf just breeds all the slayers? I thought there was only one slayer. So does that make you an Elf or not? And...where do they all go?"  
  
"Well." I hesitated, trying to collect my thoughts. "Yes, there is only one Elf that was blessed by the Valar. The right hand of the Valar. The Order of the Istari are the left hand of the Valar, in case you ever heard it referred to that. And yes, there is only one slayer at a time in the world, but this Elf breeds many girls each year. They're called potentials. We--they--all live together, preparing for the call, should they ever recieve it."  
  
"Why would they be called? How where you called?"  
  
"A new slayer is called every time the current slayer dies," I explained. "And the first job of the new slayer is to avenge the previous slayer's death."  
  
"What about you?" Frodo asked, looking at me pointedly. "How, when...?"  
  
"Uh..." I thought for a moment, trying to remember the exact details of my own life. "I was called when I was a little over three hundred. The slayer before me had been killed by a vampire, so all I had to do was dust him and my duty was done. Ah...this January, I'll be 788 years old. I'm a half-elf, technically. My father was an Elf, I explained earlier. My mother was Rohirrim, not Gondorian...not like the others."  
  
"So..." Pippin looked at me anxiously. "Are you really going to castrate Boromir?"  
  
"What?" I said, confused. Then I remembered what I threatened Boromir with at the Council today, and I blushed. "Oh, ah. No. I have no mortal enemies. I don't kill humans."  
  
He sighed, relieved. "Good, because...well, we're all a team now. And we really need to get along...even if he did call you a whore."  
  
My cheeks turned an even deeper red. "I'm not a whore."  
  
The hobbits began talking to each other about other random things at that moment, turning their attention away from me. I sat deep in thought, thinking about Boromir and what Pippin had said. Maybe it _would_ be a good idea for me to call a truce with him. After all, this Fellowship was going to trek all the way to Mordor together just to destroy the thing. I wouldn't want to be on bad terms with any of them.  
  
The hobbits stood up, and I was still on the grass. I looked up at them. "Where are you going?"  
  
"It's dinnertime." Merry pointed to the west, where the sun was sinking below the trees. "These elves don't eat as often as we'd like around here." He looked at me pointedly. "Aren't you coming?"  
  
"I have to put Amrûn back in the barn. Go on ahead, I'll see you there."  
  
The hobbits found their way back to the path and began to head on up to the dining hall. I stood, and whistled for Amrûn. He came, reluctantly, and I led him back to the stalls. Amrûn went in without a fuss, and as I shut his stall door and locked it, from behind me, I heard a quiet, "Hello." I whirled around.   
  
It was Legolas.

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please r&r! thank ya! 


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